Open your heart for the spirit to breathe.
Church is your lungs and the chorus – a breeze.
Candles are burdens and yokes to cremate,
flight numbers are prayers, some of them late.
Rosary’s roses are petals to count,
beads, chanting echoes, go deeper than sounds,
hopes like space landers – your knees on the floor,
harpoons in eyelids keep hunting for more
love and redemption, for blessing and bliss.
Kisses on crosses weight fears to release.
Tesseras – heaven and tessellas – stars,
soul’s ageless healing brings tears and sets scars.
Angels on shoulders are masters in ads,
pushing through ears what are holy signs’ scads.
Bread – eaten body, as Blood – drunken wine.
Spirits are breathing, they vine over Shrine.
November 3, 2008
Copyright ©2008 Iouri Lazirko